


Nowhere Left To Dream

by MalevolentReverie



Series: MalRev’s Short Stories [27]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon Universe, Choking, Come Swallowing, Controlling Kylo Ren, Cunnilingus, Darkfic, Dom/sub, Dominant Kylo Ren, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Forced Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Gaslighting, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, Master/Pet, Misogyny, Missionary Position, Naked Female Clothed Male, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Kylo Ren, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Primae Noctis, Renperor, Rough Sex, Size Kink, So I'm Tagging Rape, Somnophilia, Submissive Rey (Star Wars), Verbal Humiliation, What Else..........., a dash of murder, feederism, which is basically rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-11-26 14:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20931551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentReverie/pseuds/MalevolentReverie
Summary: A desperate Rey agrees to marry Unkar Plutt, but the night of their 'wedding' the newly minted Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren, arrives to negotiate a contract. He takes interest in Rey instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Когда мечтам больше нет места](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20964737) by [Tersie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tersie/pseuds/Tersie)

> [Translation into Chinese available](https://m.weibo.cn/5737784809/4553518528345439) by [WtyBill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WtyBill/pseuds/WtyBill)
> 
> it had to be done
> 
> also lol @ primae noctis stories that aren't tagged as noncon
> 
> oh this is from circadian rhythm by silversun pickups

Desperation breeds necessity, and Rey has become desperate.

She makes her way to the exchange stall where Unkar Plutt rations out the only food available on Jakku. He’s utterly repulsive: rude, smelly, and somehow always coughing, but he also has constant access to food. Not _good _food—but edible food.

And he’s become fascinated with her for whatever reason to the point of a preposterous proposal. Revolting, horrible, nauseating proposal, as if feigning a marriage will soften the blow.

Unkar casts her a glare as she cuts to the front of the line. Rey pushes aside the Gungian at the counter and meets Unkar’s sunken, leering eyes.

“I accept,” she says primly.

He blinks. Smiles.

“Good. Come here at nightfall.” He points, irate again. “_Don’t_ try anything stupid, girl.”

Rey rolls her eyes as she turns and leaves. This is humiliating and disgusting but she’s hungry, and thin, and increasingly sick. Her parents would want her to keep healthy, and she’ll never see them again if she drops dead from starvation.

• • •

Before nightfall comes, Rey sees a large black First Order ship descend from the cloudless sky. It heads for Niima Outpost, so she thinks nothing of it. They sometimes search for Resistance fighters in the swaths of refugees.

She takes a while to prepare herself for the inevitable: Unkar Plutt’s revolting body on top of and inside her own. She paces and takes deep breaths up until the sun has sunken low in the sky.

If she’s dead, she’ll never see her parents again. That’s what she has to remember. It’s been a long fourteen years, and her parents must be searching. She has to see them again.

Rey grabs her staff and little desert flower before she leaves for Niima Outpost.

• • •

Unkar has closed the ration stall when she arrives. It’s dark and growing cold and he beckons her along, toward the black dunes on the other side of the market. Rey grits her teeth and follows him. Hopefully this won’t be _real _marriage. Hopefully he drops dead.

He shuffles through the sand. “We have company, so don’t embarrass me.”

“What company?” Rey asks.

“First Order. You can stay out of the way.”

She glares at the fat rolls on the back of his bumpy neck. Rotten bastard.

They walk through the darkness to Unkar’s ramshackle home, where two Stormtroopers stand guard outside. They hardly react as Unkar opens the creaky door and leads Rey inside. She glances at their blank, frankly frightening white helmets, shivering.

It’s warm, filled with old ship furniture that doesn’t match. Rey has never visited the rotten place but is somewhat pleased with the safety it might offer and four sturdy walls rather than an open rusted-out Rebel ship. She shuts the door behind her and notices a man sitting on the large couch.

He absorbs half the space in the small sitting area, black mask reflecting weak firelight from the far corner. All of his skin is covered in black armor and clothing but Rey can feel him watching her as she awkwardly picks the chair beside Unkar’s.

He’s tall. He sits in a relaxed manner like he’s quite comfortable in possessing the space.

Unkar motions to Rey. “This is my soon-to-be wife. Little rat, but she’ll keep the bed warm.”

Rey keeps her mouth shut. She avoids the masked man, opting instead to trail her gaze along the cracked ceiling. He shifts in the corner of her eye.

But Unkar launches into talking about where the _Millenium Falcon _might be, an old freighter Rey remembers from tales of the Republic. It’s here, on Jakku, collected as collateral on an unpaid debt. What interest the stranger has in the ship, she doesn’t know. Maybe he’s a wealthy collector.

He seems bored by Unkar. Rey can still sense him watching her.

“My men will collect the ship.” His voice is deep, mechanical from a vocoder. He pauses. “Does this girl have a name?”

“Rey,” Unkar supplies, hesitant.

“_Rey_. And does Rey speak?”

She glances at their expectant stares. Unkar glares so she shrugs and speaks.

“Yes,” she snips. “I’m Rey.”

The man makes a vague gesture, imploring her to continue. There isn’t much else. She’s an orphan waiting for her family, enjoys flight simulators, and absolutely loathes Unkar Plutt.

Her ‘fiancé’ jumps in again with a dismissive laugh.

“Very simple girl. I’m sure she doesn’t follow, Supreme Leader. Now… if we can arrange payment for the ship.”

“You’ll be compensated. Continue to pester me and you’ll only be compensated with your life.”

Unkar nods, though he looks displeased. He lapses into silence while the Supreme Leader continues examining Rey from behind his mask.

Supreme Leader—Kylo Ren—she thought he’d be bigger. He’s certainly menacing and Rey squirms under his chrome and black mask, fearful of what he might be thinking. But she’s thinking too far ahead. He must have others who cater to his… needs. She’s too thin and sickly; too much sinewy muscle and bone.

He tilts his head. “And you’re to marry Unkar, Rey?”

“…Yes,” she replies.

“Tonight,” Unkar interjects. He reaches over to pat her thigh and Rey pulls away. “If I had known you’d be visiting, sir, I would’ve finished the job earlier.”

“Oh. Then I’m sure you’re eager to proceed.”

Unkar nods and licks his cracked lips. “Simple and rude, but she’ll warm the bed.” He pinches the thin fat on Rey’s upper arm and she hisses. “Put some meat on these little bones, too. Nothing better than a nice soft woman.”

The Supreme Leader doesn’t respond. Everything is quiet again for a long minute and tension mounts in the small room. Rey examines her nails.

Then he folds his large gloved hands in his lap and nods toward her.

“Disrobe.”

“Sir,” Unkar splutters, “Supreme—”

Kylo sweeps his hand like he’s batting a fly. Unkar is flung into the door hard enough that he’s thrown straight out. It swings shut behind him.

Rey looks over her shoulder at the spectacle and quickly turns back. Kylo is still watching her, very much at his leisure and unperturbed by Unkar shouting outside. Her heart flutters. Does he really want her to just… take off her clothes?

He rests his head on his closed fist. The fire crackles and shadows lengthen across the dirty floor.

“Proceed,” he says.

Rey hesitates, but stands, knees knocking. She isn’t going to deny him after the show of strength and quickly divests herself of the dusty robes she’s worn for years. Her cheeks burn during the process but it’s dark enough that she hopes Kylo can’t see.

He doesn’t move. He’s quiet as her clothes rustle in a pile to the floor, which she picks up and sets aside on the chair behind her. It leaves her in chest bindings and the small shorts she uses as underwear. Nervous, she flexes her hands while she waits for him to speak.

Kylo motions in a circle. “Turn. Slowly.”

“Sir—Supreme Leader.” Rey swallows a lump, glancing towards the door. “Unkar and I have a tenuous agreement and—”

“_Turn_.”

His voice is harder. She stiffens her upper lip as she turns in a small circle, fists balled at her sides. Is he trying to humiliate her? Is he going to mock her ribs and bruises and calluses?

When she meets his black mask again, he taps his fingers on the side. Unkar is still complaining and the Stormtroopers are telling him to stay back.

“How old are you?” Kylo asks.

“Nineteen.”

“Have you ever menstruated?”

Rey reddens and folds her arms over her chest. “No, I haven’t.”

It’s because she’s thin and malnourished. It’s a blessing in disguise: she doesn’t need to worry about catching and disposing of the blood.

Kylo Ren goes back to silence. He taps his helmet.

“Remove the rest.”

“Surely only my _husband _should see that,” she snaps.

That draws out a long sigh. He’s risking her agreement with Unkar: what if she’s spoiled now and he doesn’t want her? This is access to food and survival, and the whims of the Supreme Leader don’t matter at all to Rey. Her existence is much smaller and simpler.

Kylo rises to his feet. Rey bristles, instinct telling her to run, but he takes two steps and is looming before her. There’s no escape from him.

He grasps the top of her bindings and rips them open with a single rough tug. She jerks back and he brings her forward, two fingers hooked over the hem of her underwear, which tug down as well to remove them. All these things fall to the floor, leaving Rey naked and mortified.

He’s going to ruin her, then leave and never come back.

Kylo gently cups a breast in his rough glove, squeezing as if he’s sampling a fruit. He brushes a thumb across her nipple and Rey suppresses a nervous shudder.

His fingers trail down her ribs like he’s counting them and alight on her prominent hip bone. He’s warm and smells like something fragrant and soft that Rey doesn’t recognize. She glares at his chest.

Something unclips. His cape flutters around her shoulders, heavy, warm, and conceals her body down to her ankles. Rey blinks as Kylo touches her arm and gestures to the door with his long fingers.

“After you.”

She pulls the cape tighter and doesn’t object. He isn’t a man to be objecting with.

Unkar paces outside. The Stormtroopers catch him when he charges toward Kylo and Rey, shouting and cursing. She shivers in the cold, teeth chattering, watching Kylo wave off the Stormtroopers. They step aside and let Unkar through.

“What are you doing?!” he demands. “She’s _mine_! You can’t—!”

Kylo doesn’t lift his hand, but it looks like something seizes Unkar’s throat. He gags, pudgy face flooding purple, and clutches his neck with wide eyes.

The Supreme Leader saunters closer. He circles Unkar, silent, intimidating in the icy darkness. Rey considers making a break for it, casting a look across the inky black sand dunes. Travel at night through the desert is dangerous, but so is this.

“Primae noctis, Plutt,” Kylo murmurs, amused. He grabs the front of Unkar’s shirt and drags him up on his tiptoes to the chrome eyelet of the helmet. “Your Supreme Leader can take whatever peasant girls he pleases. Can’t he?”

“She… she… That’s not a law!”

Kylo pulls him closer. “I _am _the law.”

Unkar is thrown to the ground in a cloud of sand. The Stormtroopers flank Rey and urge her on with the butts of their blasters. She stumbles forward twice before obediently walking.

“She’ll be returned to your possession,” Kylo continues. He nudges Unkar’s belly with his boot. “Once I’ve had my fill of her this evening.”

Rey’s stomach flips. She stops and is shoved onward, past where Unkar is groaning on the ground. His _fill_—that word makes her hair stand on end. Is Kylo even human? What if he’s something frightening underneath the helmet?

Her bare feet pad through cold soft sand and she stares at the back of the Supreme Leader’s head. Why is he doing this? Is he really so cruel?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fully prepared to be asked to continue this............................................... but i shouldn't
> 
> this has *slight* pregnancy kink

The Stormtroopers escort Rey into the belly of Kylo’s ship. It’s as cold and clinical as his helmet, black and chrome with smatterings of white, and her dread grows. She has nowhere to go.

They disperse upon arrival to a gray door, where Kylo inputs a code to make it open. He steps aside and makes a sweeping gesture for Rey to enter first. She hesitates before obediently stepping inside.

She finds more dark walls and floors, and a sitting area that hardly looks comfortable. It’s cool. The air has a strange quality to it; recycled, but clean. There’s no sand to get in her lungs here.

The door closes behind her.

Kylo takes the cape, slipping it from Rey’s shoulders, and drapes it across the back of a chair. She folds her arms over her chest and follows when he beckons her toward another door. The floor is oddly warm on her bare feet, like it’s heated.

The heat carries on into the bathroom. All around are neatly folded towels and cloths that Rey reaches out to brush her fingers across. There’s a large mirror before them which is where Kylo begins removing assorted soaps, lining them on the white counter.

“Wash thoroughly,” he instructs. He sets a single pink pill beside a bottle. “Take this.”

“What is it?”

He closes the cabinet. “To prevent pregnancy.”

She reddens and takes the pill without a sip of water. Kylo tugs her jaw open, prodding under her tongue and into her cheek with his gloved fingers. He leaves the bathroom when he’s satisfied she’s swallowed it.

Rey examines the shower. The knobs are foreign, but she twists them until a cold steam of water erupts from the overhead and cascades to the floor.

Interesting. She’s used sonic showers before and paid dearly for the experience, so this feels opulent. Washing with water when it’s so rare on Jakku; like it’s as freely available as oxygen.

She steps in to wash, but also drinks some of the water before she does. It’s cold and tastes better than what she finds back home.

Dirt and sand circle the drain in black and brown swirls. Rey scrubs and scrubs until her skin is red and raw, but clean, tan or pale under the accumulated filth. It’s satisfying to see the dirt wash out of her hair and feel how soft it is afterwards.

She emerges and dries with a towel. The chill raises the hair across her body, but most of it is fear of what lies beyond the closed door.

But she leaves the bathroom anyhow, and finds Kylo leaning on the opposite wall outside. He has his arms crossed over his broad chest but points to yet another door, this one open, leading into what she assumes is the bedroom. Her pulse quickens as she peers inside and sees the edge of a large bed with black sheets.

Rey teeters a few steps toward the door. Kylo follows. The thud of his boots carries over the light slap of her bare feet on the hard floor. He touches her lower back when she pauses at the threshold, and Rey draws away from it.

“I don’t want to do this,” she admits, as if it isn’t plain and obvious.

Another nudge to her back pushes her inside. She turns to face Kylo as the door shuts behind him.

He reaches up and presses buttons of either side of his helmet to release the hydraulics with a loud hiss. Rey blinks at the sight of a young man underneath, black hair in a shiny tumble to his shoulders, eyes soft but with a hard edge. He looks nothing like what she expected: young; attractive, even.

Kylo sets aside his helmet on a shelf, then begins slowly towards Rey.

She backpedals at the same speed, worried he might attack if she makes a sudden movement. It _feels _like he will—like he’s a wild animal.

His gloved hands roam to his belt. Rey stumbles over the edge of the bed.

“You should be honored,” Kylo says. His dark eyes wander down Rey’s body. “Your Supreme Leader has taken an interest in you, no matter how fleeting.”

“Unkar and I—we have a deal!” She scrambles back across the huge bed, shaking her head. “Please let me go! There must be someone else—”

Kylo seizes her ankle and drags her back to the edge of the bed, clicking his tongue. Something pins her there; something invisible and powerful, which she quickly realizes must be the Force. It’s impossible to resist. She lies there, eyes wide.

He sets his belt aside and proceeds to the tunic. Rey knows her fear must be evident because he shushes her gently even as he removes his next article of clothing. Her restrained hands tremble at her sides. It’s even hard for her to speak.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmurs. He shrugs out of the tunic and Rey sees another layer of clothing underneath: suspenders, and a shirt, and a strap attaching his arm guards. “But I can take whatever I please: including engaged garbage pickers on Jakku.”

His eyebrows raise as he unhooks his suspenders, still meeting Rey’s stare. “Because everything in this galaxy, including engaged garbage pickers, belongs to _me_—and I am very much entitled to my possessions. Isn’t that right, Rey?”

Kylo steps between her knees, grasping the hem of his shirt to pull it up over his head and casting it aside to the floor. His broad chest is riddled with scars but that isn’t the most pressing thing she notices.

He toys with the clasp of his slacks until they open with a soft ruffle. Rey exhales a sharp, terrified breath, but he shushes her even as he slips his long fingers under the hem. It’s difficult to see in the darkness but she knows what he’s doing and what he expects from her.

The Force slips away, freeing her body from the heavy pressure. Rey shakes her head and pleads in whispers but Kylo guides her upright on the edge of the bed anyway. He smooths her hair back with a soft brush of his palm, cupping her head from behind.

“Shh… Shh…” Unmistakable sticky warmth strokes across the seam of her lips. Rey squeezes her eyes shut. “Don’t be frightened. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Please,” she mumbles. “_Please_…”

Kylo’s long fingers drift around to grasp her jaw. His thumb tugs her lower lip, parting it just slightly so the head of his cock brushes her wet inner lip. Rey jerks back but he pulls her back in. He resumes tracing her lips and gives her jaw a squeeze.

“Use your tongue,” he says softly. His thumb rubs her cheek up to her jaw bone. “I won’t hurt you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and her tongue darts out, licking the underside. Kylo takes a sharp breath and encourages her to continue in the same gentle tone. Rey swallows a lump but does what he says, this time slowly extending her tongue, licking the odd soft skin.

He passes his hand through her hair to hold the back of her head. She licks him like she does her fingers when she’s done eating, confused as to what else she’s supposed to do, until he makes an amused, breathless sound bordering on a laugh.

“Open,” he says. “Roll your lips over your teeth and suck gently.”

Rey hesitantly opens her mouth and does the strange things he asks. Kylo doesn’t move but lets her press the flat of her tongue along the underside of his cock. Her lips close around the warm head and she sucks experimentally, tongue rubbing along the soft skin just past her lips. She tastes salt.

His cock is thick; hard. He’s only an inch or so inside her mouth but he isn’t pushing, so Rey carries on licking and sucking the same way. Her fingers grasp the front of his slacks and Kylo groans, a deep, rumbling sound in his chest that ends in a sigh.

His gloves thread in her hair, pulling, urging her to take more of him in her mouth. She grasps the front of his slacks as another few hot inches press through her lips, and she pushes at the sensation, anxious. Her mouth feels so full she worries she’ll choke.

“Look at me.”

Rey lifts her gaze to his hooded dark eyes. He holds her head still and tugs her hair, urging her to take more of him in her mouth.

“Good girl.” His hips shift, only a little. “You have to take the whole thing, Rey. Keep going.”

It seems impossible. She awkwardly tries anyhow, lips stretching to accommodate him, and Kylo jerks his hips. He rolls his neck and his dark eyes flutter shut for a moment as Rey bobs her head. Tears prickle in the corners of her eyes.

He takes one of her wrists and guides her hand to the shaft of his cock she still hasn’t fit in her mouth. She considers biting him for a second, especially when he rolls his hips and triggers her gag reflex. But he slows and loosens his grip on her hair, so she carries on noisily sucking.

It becomes messy very quickly, saliva drooling down her lips, but Kylo holds her head to keep her from stopping. He pulls her hair tighter, back so she has to look up at him. His dark eyes stay trained on her face as he gently thrusts and shushes her when she coughs. She squirms, shaking her head.

“I know.” He curls his glove around her throat, squeezing. “But you have to take it.”

Rey gags. She pulls harder and Kylo lets her this time, but not all the way, so she settles into licking and sucking the head of his cock. Her hand strokes along his wet length and she feels a slight throb, then more stickiness on her tongue. His fingers tighten on her throat.

“That’s good,” he breathes. “Just like that—use your tongue.”

His glazed eyes flicker back and he groans as she kisses down the side, trying to avoid him pushing down her throat. Rey traces a vein with the tip of her tongue and takes his cock in her mouth, sucking, lewd wet sounds that mingle with Kylo’s shallow breaths.

He grabs her hair at the back of her head and pushes in until Rey squeals. She paws at his pants but he holds her still and thrusts into her mouth.

“Look how lovely you are like this.” Kylo licks his lips and wipes some saliva from her chin. “Such a soft, eager little mouth.” He shudders and pushes her head. “Swallow.”

Desperate, Rey swallows frantically, and his cock slips into the back of her throat. He thrusts rhythmically and she feels another twitch along his cock, but her mouth is too full for anything except a whimper.

Maybe she should be grateful. He’s the Supreme Leader and he’s chosen her.

Kylo brushes her hair back. “Such a good girl. Look how lovely you are.” His throat bobs and he rolls his neck, shuddering. “I’m close. I’m going to come, and you’re going to swallow _all _of it.”

Rey isn’t quite sure what that entails. She breathes hard through her nose and tastes more salt, then his cock twitches and he curses.

Something warm spills down the back of her throat. She resists, coughing, but he holds her firm, forcing her mouth down on his cock as far as she can go. He groans and thrusts, drawing back so some squirts on her tongue, thick and salty and foreign.

Kylo catches his breath. He combs her hair aside roughly so her head rolls to the side, and his cock slips from her mouth.

“Let me see,” he breathes. “Stick out your tongue.”

She obeys, trembling as she sticks out her tongue slick with his essence. She just wants to spit it out. But he nods, broad chest heaving, and she can’t.

“Very good, little one. Now swallow.”

Her distaste must show on her face. Kylo smiles, just slightly, and cups her cheek while she swallows.

He nods toward the bed. “Lie on your back and spread your legs.”

“_Please_,” Rey rasps, on the verge of tears. She doesn’t quite have the willpower to wipe her face clean. “I did what you wanted—_please_ let me go.”

He seizes her chin, pulling roughly. His eyes are sharp again, no longer pleasure-addled and aroused.

“Lie on your back,” he repeats, “and spread your legs.”

Trembling, Rey crawls to the center of the large bed, something she’s never seen or slept on before. Kylo removes his boots before he joins her, still mostly dressed in his slacks and arm guards and gloves. He’s tucked his cock in his pants.

He kneels between her open knees and cups his hands over each one, spreading them. Rey rests her head back in the pillows and closes her eyes.

“I’m assuming you’ve never been penetrated?” he says. Rey shakes her head. “Well, I certainly don’t want to _ruin _you for Unkar, do I?”

Kylo shifts on his knees, tugging Rey’s calves over his shoulders, and smooths his gloves down the front of her thighs. He grabs a pillow from beside her head and pushes it under her bottom so she’s propped up closer, then he crouches. He kisses along her inner thigh and Rey fists the sheets.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do, unless you want to be _very _sore tomorrow morning.” His soft lips wander inward toward her groin, tongue tracing a trail that makes her shiver. “Relax. This won’t hurt.”

She stiffens. Kylo kisses the curve of her mound and his warm breath drifts toward further inward. His lips are soft and almost tickle. Her calves tighten where they’re resting on his shoulders as he slowly draws the tip of his tongue along her slit.

He wraps his arms around her thighs and kisses harder, deeper into her folds. Rey clenches her jaw and her heart skips a beat at the strange wetness. It’s like he’s eating her and she’s embarrassed having her legs wide open to his mouth—

Kylo’s lips find a favorite spot and her thoughts stop spinning. _Oh_.

Kissing turns to light sucking. Her toes curl and she risks glancing down where he’s settled between her thighs, a mess of black hair, eyes closed. She’s done this before a handful of times with her own fingers but _this _feels much different. It’s better. Much better.

Rey rolls her hips tentatively, moving in time with his mouth. He doesn’t seem to mind. His mouth roams further down and his nose stimulates her instead; not quite enough pressure. But she doesn’t say a word and doesn’t touch his head to move him back where she wants. It’s not worth the risk.

Soon he resumes sucking the pleasurable spot, teasing with his tongue, and she whimpers and squirms. This is embarrassing. She can’t do _that _with him between her legs.

Kylo seems to sense her hesitation. He drops her back to the pillow and tugs off his gloves by the fingertips, licking his lips. He throws them aside and pops his middle finger in his mouth, dark eyes watching Rey.

He leans across her, one hand beside her head, and she feels steady prodding. Prodding turns to pushing and she winces as Kylo gently penetrates her with one finger. He shushes her.

“I know.” Somehow he pushes deeper, stroking back across the front wall. “You’re so tense, little one. I don’t think you’ll be able to come for me.”

“_Hurts_,” she grits out.

But he pumps his finger and some of the pain ebbs away, before he adds another. It comes right back and she hisses, pushing against his broad chest. He carries on with what he’s doing but throws the pillow aside so her bottom is resting on the bed.

The fullness becomes pleasurable after a few minutes, and Kylo lowers his body closer to hers. He kisses her temple and murmurs while Rey tries to hide her small gasps and whines. It feels good. Tension is already growing in her belly and she’s rolling her hips with his fingers, shivering each time the tips rub a certain spot inside her.

Then his fingers withdraw. She moans, legs shifting limply around his hips, but he just shushes her and lowers his weight to his forearm. His hand maneuvers near his pants to push them down lower, impatient, like he’s eager to move on.

“Good girl,” Kylo whispers. Blunt, hot pressure meets her entrance and Rey tenses all over again. His lips are at her ear. “Do you like playing with yourself back home?”

He guides himself—Rey feels the brush of his knuckles. She digs her nails into his back and huffs hard on his shoulder as his cock pushes inside her, through tight muscle, wet as it is. She nods to his question in an effort to distract herself.

Kylo angles his arm under the pillow, breathing evenly on her cheek. “What a naughty little garbage picker I’ve found. What a naughty girl.”

“Please,” she manages. He’s big; too big. Tears bead in her eyes and she shakes her head. “I can’t.”

“Why? Is my cock too big?”

“Y-Yes—yes.”

He huffs, satisfied. His hand drifts up her ribs to her breast and he circles his soft thumb around her nipple. His hips roll, fucking her as gently as she thinks he can possibly manage, taking more and more of her unwilling body. It _hurts_.

“What do you think of when you play with yourself?” Kylo whispers. He kisses her tears as they roll down to her jaw. “Do you think of your Supreme Leader fucking you with his big cock?”

“I… I don’t know…”

He grabs her hair and pulls. “Don’t be shy. Don’t be shy.” His teeth graze her jaw and her back arches, thighs quivering around his hips. “I think of desperate peasant girls when I masturbate—their tight, soft pussies, and defiling them with my big cock.”

“I’m not a p-peasant!” Rey hisses, choking on a sob. She pushes on his hips but it only serves to make him fuck her harder.

“You are—you’re a garbage picking peasant who will marry _Unkar Plutt _for some scraps of food. You’re a sad, skinny little thing who swallows your Supreme Leader’s cum like a good girl.”

Their bodies come together, hips flush, and Kylo groans as he sets a faster pace. He grasps the headboard with one hand and keeps the other beneath Rey’s head to pull her hair, face hidden in her neck. She tries to hide her sobs. He’s horrible.

“Shh…” He keeps his voice soft even while he’s hungrily kissing the tears from her cheeks. “Shh, shh. I’m going to fill up my hungry, desperate peasant girl with all the things she needs. Isn’t that what a good master does for his pet, Rey?”

“I’m not your pet!” She scratches down his back, sobbing. “Get away from me!”

“You _are_. You’re my little garbage-picking sand flea, and you’re going to stay right here—” Kylo curls his fingers around her throat and squeezes until she gasps. “And let your master fill you in whatever way he sees fit.”

Rey has no idea what he’s implying. She gives up on silence and cries into his shoulder while he continues fucking her, but he doesn’t seem to care for that and tugs her away. He pushes on her throat and rests his forehead on hers, eyes fluttering with pleasure as she coughs and squirms.

Some of the pain fades. Her body adjusts to him but the humiliation of being pinned and degraded makes the experience far from pleasurable. Rey pants as Kylo pounds into her, more frenzied and eager, and he kisses her forehead to suppress a groan. He’s heavy—warm. His pants and arm guards are still on and it makes her feel even more like a toy he was overeager to play with.

His hand slides from her throat to cup her cheek, wiping away the tears. Skin slaps lewdly against skin and another groan catches in his throat.

“I’m going to come,” he breathes. His eyes meet hers, glazed, unfocused. “I’m going to come inside my hungry little peasant girl.” Kylo licks his lips when she shakes her head. “I am, and I’m going to get her pregnant and leave her on Jakku.”

Rey shakes her head faster, eyes widening. “No—no, please don’t do that. Please don’t.”

That’s one of her greatest fears: _pregnancy_. As if feeding herself isn’t difficult enough.

But Kylo seems to enjoy taunting her. He’s cruel, almost sadistic, and it’s deeply frightening. There’s no one in the galaxy who can help her.

“No?” he muses. “You don’t _want _to carry your Supreme Leader’s children?”

“Just—just don’t leave me to—” Her voice hitches, throat too tight to continue. She’ll die if he does that.

He shushes her and clicks his tongue like she shouldn’t be terrified at the prospect of being pregnant and alone. His cock twitches inside her, and Rey knows her torment is almost over.

“I know. I know.” Kylo’s eyes roll back and he shudders. “I’ll never let you go, my sweet little sand flea. But it’s a nice thought—my peasant girl pregnant and round and full of me.” He’s breathless, trembling. “_Fuck_, that’s a nice thought.”

Rey clings to his shoulder blades as Kylo curses and roughly fucks into her. He puffs hot breaths in her hair and makes a guttural groan littered with more curses, hips pounding harder. He’s swollen up and stroking her just the right way but she’s too frightened to climax. He’s _terrifying_.

He grabs the headboard, shuddering as a rush of warmth spills inside her. His thrusts stagger into long, deep movements that push her body up into the pillows and he makes pleasured groans unlike anything she’s ever heard. Rey grimaces but doesn’t resist him, and she can’t deny a small excited flutter when he says her name.

It’s _terrifying_—but she did have sex with the Supreme Leader, and he enjoyed it.

Kylo shivers as his orgasm tapers off. His hand slides from the headboard and he rolls off Rey onto his back, broad chest heaving and slicked with sweat. He rubs his face with both hands and sighs contentedly, like he’s relieved. That’s good. He should let her go now. Get back to Jakku.

His hands fall to his sides and he gazes at the ceiling for a moment, then pushes off his slacks the rest of the way. He leans upright to pull off his arm guards and is left just as naked as Rey. Then he lies down and resumes gazing at the ceiling.

She looks down and sees a mixture of blood and semen pooling on the bed spread.

Rey jerks upright. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—!”

“Lie _down_, pet.”

“But… there’s—”

Kylo lazily flicks two fingers and Rey is dragged down on her back. She lies still, trembling while he yawns and runs his hands through his hair. She watches from the corner of her eye as he turns on his side, shifting closer beside her body.

He seems less inclined to taunt her. His eyes are drowsy as he lifts her arm to wrap it around his back. He props up on one arm and squeezes her thigh with the other.

“I want to watch you touch yourself,” he says, as if it’s a simple request. “To climax.”

“I don’t think I can… finish.”

She’s sore. Very sore.

“No?” Kylo grazes his fingertips along her inner thigh and heaves a sigh. “That’s unfortunate.”

Rey assumes he’ll tell her to leave but he tugs back the sheets instead. He settles them underneath and she marvels at how soft and warm they are on her skin. It’s less nerve-wracking having her nudity hidden and being unable to see his.

“I suppose I’ll have to intervene,” he mutters.

Pressure hits her in the next moment, deep inside her lower belly, strong enough to take her breath. Rey gasps and fists the sheets in shock as it shifts downward and seems to _vibrate_.

Kylo kisses her neck, unperturbed by her frantic breaths and writhing legs. He drags his nails along her inner thigh and Rey realizes quite suddenly that she’s going to come, even if she doesn’t want to.

“My good girl,” he whispers. His warm palm flattens on her lower belly and the pressure intensifies. “You’re going to come for me.”

She does. Whimpering, Rey twists the sheets in her fist and digs into Kylo’s back with her other hand, squirming as she climaxes. He hums a tune and kisses her tenderly while she gulps, helpless under the pressure of the Force. Her toes curl, muscles rhythmically contracting like they should; like all the times she’s touched herself in the hollowed-out freighter.

It ripples through her body, mixed pleasure and humiliation—and somehow, Rey thinks it feels better that way.

“Kylo—” She gasps his name even as she’s coming down, panting. “Kylo—” Then she cries, overwhelmed and embarrassed.

He clicks his tongue. “My sweet girl. Come here.” His thick arms wrap around her as he collects her to his chest, embracing gently, but firm. His nose buries in her hair. “You’ve done so well.”

“I want to go home,” Rey begs. “I’m waiting for my parents! They’re… they’re coming back!”

“Well won’t _they_ be happy to learn you’re my concubine. My peasant girl with the soft pussy.” He lowers his voice, husky. “You feel like coming home.”

“No—No, I have to go!”

“You _are_ home. Your home is wherever I say it is, Rey.”

This is not at all what she wants. This may be worse than marrying Unkar.

Rey continues to panic as Kylo continues to murmur in her ear. She grows drowsy, pawing at his chest and slurring about going back to Jakku. Why is she so tired? Why is he cupping the back of her head?

“I know,” he whispers. He strokes her hair. “Don’t worry. I’m going to fill you with all the things you need, my sweet little sand flea.”

Her body hurts. Her heart hurts. And she falls asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a light sprinkling of feederism in this

Rey wakes alone in the dark.

She sits bolt upright in the enormous black bed, heart pounding, and finds she really _is _alone. The Supreme Leader is nowhere to be seen—unless the Force lets him turn invisible, too.

Shivering, she throws back the sheets and stifles a sob at what she sees. The pain is bad, but the mixed bodily fluids may be even worse, and there are ugly purple bruises littering her thighs. It’s like a shameful mark; it’s evidence of what transpired and a reminder of him pinning and fucking her.

Rey climbs out of the bed to wavering legs. She trembles in the cold and snatches the nearest article of clothing, his cape, still warm and heavy. It’s somehow comforting, too. Maybe it feels like a hug, something she hasn’t gotten a lot of on Jakku, but it also smells… masculine, she thinks, like body heat and faint cologne.

Quiet persists into the main sitting area. Rey peers around before darting to the bathroom in the opposite corner.

She drops the cape on the floor and hurries into the shower. Her skin prickles from all the places he touched her and she worries she’ll never scrub the sensation of him off. It has to go away sooner or later. Right?

It has to. It will.

Besides, Kylo must be through with her now. She’ll get dressed and go back home, maybe to marry Unkar, maybe to eventual starvation. Either is better than waiting for the Supreme Leader in his bedroom like an actual concubine. That’s worse. Definitely worse, even though it _shouldn’t_ be.

Rey finishes scrubbing her skin raw and steps out to dry off, careful around the bruises. The mirror has nothing comforting to reveal: her eyes are puffy from crying and there are more bruises in a light ring around her throat, further evidence of the previous night. It’s humiliating.

She uses the towel to conceal her nudity instead of the cape, and opens the bathroom door.

Kylo sits at the table, leaning back in his chair with his fist on his temple, very much at ease. He’s fully dressed in the same black ensemble but lacks his cape and helmet—his long face is inscrutable, anyway.

It’s jarring to see him so suddenly. Shame bubbles up in Rey’s stomach first with a flutter of longing and excitement, emotions that don’t make much sense in a cluster. She considers locking herself in the bathroom. That would be easier than meeting his penetrating dark eyes and having to remember how he watched her come undone.

When can she leave? Can she leave yet?

Kylo raises his eyebrows. He’s reclining with his legs spread and takes up the entire chair; he’s so broad and tall that it feels like he takes the whole room. This is his space and Rey has only ever known her own.

His stare is frightening and she’s worried he’ll take advantage of her again. She clears her throat.

“Can I leave?”

The unnerving silence continues. The Supreme Leader gives nothing away, simply staring, but Rey can’t hide her discomfort like he can. Going to his bedroom to find clothes feels like an invitation and standing around in a towel is uncomfortable and making her cold. Fear wells up in her stomach.

Kylo defrosts with a soft click of his tongue. He studies Rey in a way she doesn’t understand. It’s not like last night, hungry and lusty, but curious, and she isn’t sure why he would be curious about her.

“Have you ever been able to do strange things, Rey?” he asks after a beat.

She shakes her head unsurely. What is he getting at?

“No,” she replies, “I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“…No.”

Kylo waves his hand like an afterthought, still watching her. Something warm and heavy drapes on Rey’s shoulders and she quickly realizes it’s his cape. Her heart pounds in her ears, fear boiling higher at the possessive gesture.

He’s going to let her go. He has to.

“Drop the towel.” He folds his hands in his lap, pursing his lips. “Bring me my cape.”

Rey hesitates, but lets the brown towel fall to the floor and takes a small step toward Kylo. His lips twitch and he beckons for her to approach.

Her bare feet shuffle across the room until she stops two feet away from Kylo’s open legs. She doesn’t come any closer and averts her eyes from his, biting her tongue to keep from asking when she can leave. When _can _she leave? What else does he want?

He raises his eyebrows. “Please, dear.” A big glove opens, expectant. “My cape.”

“Can I…” Rey glances over her shoulder at the bedroom. “Can I get some clothes?” She hesitates. “I mean, before I give this to you. Is… is that okay?”

Kylo smiles just at the corners of his lips and Rey feels another prickle of fear. She tugs the cape tighter.

“Of course you can,” he says. He points to the bedroom without breaking eye contact. “Help yourself.”

Rey bends a bit at the waist in an awkward bow. “Thank you… Sir. Your highness. Sorry.”

He doesn’t reply, just watches her back away and toward the bedroom. It’s unnerving. His gaze drills holes in her even with the cape for protection.

Rey hardly gets five steps before she hears him stand up behind her.

The chair scrapes lightly across the floor, creaking, clothes shuffling—he’s not moving fast at all, but he’s moving. She swallows a lump in her throat and shuffles a couple more steps to the bedroom door. Maybe he’s going to the bathroom.

But she hears him following. His boots are heavy and carry an ominous _thud _each time he steps: languid, slow; he’s a predator circling his wounded prey and basking in the terror he inspires.

She peers into the bedroom without stepping inside, and sees a green gown on the bed. It’s been made. Maybe Kylo has been waiting for her since she woke up—maybe he never left in the first place. Most predators don’t let prey out of their sight.

He’s close. It can’t be more than a handful of feet. Rey can sense the unsettling miasma he carries and the way it’s slowly engulfing her like it did last night.

She pauses at the door, afraid of it, and afraid to continue inside. Kylo is a dark stormfront ambling up behind her, threatening like rumbling thunder before a lightning strike. Her chest grows tight as his boots thud closer and closer.

“I should go,” she says.

The Supreme Leader doesn’t respond. He comes up to stand behind Rey, so close that she can feel the heat emanating from his body. His long arms stretch out to grasp either side of the doorframe and he smells her hair so quietly that she can only tell from the warmth of his breath.

She’s corralled inside. His gloves slide across the doorway as he follows, shutting the door behind them.

Rey stops, dizzy, nauseous. It’s dark and hard to see and she just wants to go back home. She may miss her parents. She needs to leave.

“I should go,” she repeats.

Kylo gently relieves her of the cape and sweeps it around his own shoulders. She squeezes her eyes shut as his hands settle on her hips, breath at her ear.

“Are you sore?” he asks.

Rey nods, hesitant. He traces his fingertips along her hip bones and roams further up across her ribs, almost reverent in the way he draws his rough gloves along her skin. She holds her breath.

“So _thin_,” Kylo murmurs. “My fragile little peasant girl.”

He urges her on toward the bed and Rey trips over it before she realizes it’s there. She bends at the hips and tries to stand, panicked, but he shushes her, pushing down gently at her shoulder. He runs his middle finger from her nape down to her tailbone and back up again—torturously slow.

Tears well up in her eyes. What is he _doing_? Won’t he just get it over with?

His voice is soft, but carries a dangerous edge.

“And does my sweet sand flea have bruises?”

Rey nods and promptly slips into miserable sobs. Kylo leans across her back, looming and caging her in, and smells her hair again. His groin presses against her bottom and she cries into the green dress.

He kisses her hair, murmuring. His voice lowers in her ear.

“Where do you have bruises?”

“My—My thighs,” Rey manages between hiccups.

“And?” His hand slides down over her ribs and hip and she knows where it’s going. “Where else? You must have more.”

“Please. Please let me go.”

Fabric rustles. Rey stiffens when hard pressure _pushes _between her legs, and Kylo reneges, drawing the head of his cock through her folds instead. Long fingers curl around her throat like a coiling snake.

“Do you remember what I told you last night?” He squeezes as he guides his cock inside her, pushing hard against her body’s tight resistance. “That I’ll fill you with all the things you need. So stay quiet—” His grip tightens when Rey cries. “And be filled.”

It hurts worse than the night before. Kylo kisses the side of her head and draws his hips back every few gentle strokes, as if he’s trying to stretch her, but Rey is too frightened to relax. The edge of the bed makes her bruises ache.

He grasps her jaw as he sinks fully inside her sore body, and groans in time with Rey’s whimper. Her toes curl on the floor.

“I want to see all your bruises,” he whispers into her hair. He rolls his hips, fucking her tenderly. “And I want to see my cum smeared across your pretty thighs—dripping from your soft little body. You’re so soft for all your sharp edges.”

“Please stop,” she begs. Her fingers dig into the bedspread as she tries pulling herself away. “You’re hurting me!”

“You’re so _tight_.” Kylo runs his fingertips along the ridges of her ribs and shudders. The scratchy fabric of his slacks irritates the back of Rey’s thighs. “So lovely. You’re so lovely.”

His hand dips between her legs. He’s just as gentle when he strokes her there, shushing her distressed whining when her body responds to his touch.

Rey gazes at the headboard, eyes hooded. She squirms against his fingers as pain gives way to pleasure and her sobbing reduces to sniffles. She mumbles his name, lost in the sensation of being full, even if it’s for a fleeting few minutes.

“That’s it,” he praises, breathless. His thrusts slow, letting Rey squirm on his cock and his fingers. “That’s my good girl. Tell me you’re a hungry garbage-picking sand flea.”

“I’m…” Rey shivers. “I’m a hungry… garbage picking s-sand flea.”

“Again.”

“I’m a h-hungry—garbage-picking sand flea.”

“And you want your master to come inside you.” Kylo squeezes her throat and she can’t talk. “Don’t you, pet?”

She nods, not entirely under duress. Yes, maybe she does in this moment, bent over the Supreme Leader’s bed, defiled, fucking herself on his cock and leather gloves. For a moment Rey thinks she might like being a pet only clothed in his heavy, warm cape.

His fingers slow. “Beg me.”

“Please—please.”

“Ah, ah.” Kylo kisses her cheek, voice husky in her ear. “What’s my name?”

Delirious, Rey breaks down into tears, desperately grinding on his unresponsive fingers.

“Kylo?” she tries.

“No.” He teases her in a light circle. “A pet doesn’t address her master by his real name.”

“Master—Master.”

“Good girl. Say my name.”

She’s rewarded with steadily increasing pressure as she babbles ‘please’ and ‘master’ into the bed. It’s torture. She’s just on the edge and he won’t let her over no matter how much she says his name.

Rey cries, trembling and sweating. “Please let me come, master. _Please_.” She swallows down her dry throat, humiliated and desperate. “I’m a h-hungry garbage-picking sand flea.”

Kylo makes a guttural groan like he’s suffering as much as she is. His cock feels swollen and thick and he huffs into the crook of her neck.

“Yes you are—yes you are.” His glove constricts until Rey can’t breathe. “And you’re going to suck my cock for table scraps and thank me for every bruise I give you, my sweet pet.”

The pressure resumes and Rey chokes as she climaxes, but Kylo doesn’t slacken his grip on her throat. It’s a foreign sensation having his cock inside her as the shivering contractions twitch around him; foreign, but pleasurable. He pants on her shoulder as she squirms along his length to another climax much different than usual.

It’s _stronger_, tingling up her spine and wrenching a gasping wail from her throat. Her eyes flutter and roll; she hardly notices Kylo come, too absorbed in the other overwhelming sensations, dizzy from him choking her. Her ears ring as he snaps at her: ‘_you’re going to take everything I give you_.’

Rey coughs when his hand slips away from her throat. She gulps, struggling to catch her breath and hold back tears at the same time, eyes wide and searching the dark room. He’s still inside her. His weight presses on her back as he groans softly and kisses her hair, and she feels his essence already dripping from her body. Her lower lip quivers.

He slips away, drawing his hands down the sides of her body to rest on her hips. She hears him pull his gloves off and set them aside—then his warm skin touches hers, and she realizes he’s trembling.

Kylo guides Rey onto her back. Her thighs quiver around his hips and she tries not to meet his inscrutable dark eyes. He’s too occupied with her body to care much: his gaze travels along the track of his hands, from her clavicle over her breasts, down her ribs, before settling on her hips.

“Look at you,” Kylo breathes. “Just muscle stretched over bones.”

He grasps her knees and parts her thighs, now littered with a colorful array of contusions. It’s dark and hard to make out his expression but Rey feels his fingertips glide along her skin, tracing sticky wetness across the sensitive bruises. She squeezes her eyes shut.

Kylo’s clothes rustle and he replaces his gloves. He helps Rey from the bed and swaddles her in the cape instead of the ruined dress. She limps to the door, wincing in the bright light outside the bedroom. He looms behind her as an unfamiliar, delicious scent wafts through the room.

The table is now covered with food—so much food that Rey is stunned to silence at the sight. She blinks, eyes roaming the display of things she’s never seen.

It’s colorful: a palette of meats and vegetables and fruits, all stacked together on white plates. She’s caught sight of exotic food for sale at Niima Outpost but it’s fleeting; nothing she can afford. The sight and scent of the spread renders her speechless.

Kylo isn’t quite so taken with it. He urges her on toward the table and sits in the chair, then gently pushes Rey to the floor to sit beside him.

Her cheeks burn at the degrading nature of being made to sit on the floor. The cape works well enough as a soft buffer but she’s sore and doesn’t know how to cross her legs for modesty. She folds the cape around her like a blanket and shivers.

“I’m…” Rey hesitates. “I’m afraid I’ll ruin this.”

“You will, but I have more than one.”

Kylo reaches over the table for a pink fruit and offers it to her. It’s shiny and round, about big enough to fit in the palm of her hand. She mumbles a thank you as she takes it and turns in over in her hands.

Is she supposed to bite into it? Maybe she’s supposed to wait. That’s the polite thing to do, she thinks.

He glances down at her, already filling a plate with other varieties of food. His lips twitch into a very slight smile and Rey’s blush grows hotter.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs. “You must be hungry.”

She awkwardly bites into the pink fruit while he watches, and chews slowly to savor the taste. It’s sweet; the sweetest thing she’s ever tasted. Her taste buds tingle and she shivers entirely from pleasure. _Delicious. _It’s delicious. She wants ten more.

And Kylo watches. His gaze trails the sticky juice dripping down her chin before he goes back to his plate, and Rey assumes she’s being a slob. She licks her fingers and wipes her mouth as she finishes the fruit, and he takes the core, whittled down as far as it could go. She should’ve eaten it all.

“Sir—Master.” She peers up at the table. “I don’t mean to be wasteful. I can eat it.”

Kylo doesn’t respond. He picks up a piece of blue meat in his fingertips and doesn’t even look at her as he offers it. Rey swallows, humiliated by the gesture but too hungry to ignore it. She eats, careful not to bite him, grasping his wrist.

It’s salty, and his gloves still taste like her. She’s never tasted much salt and tries licking his fingers, but Kylo pulls his hand away. She licks her lips instead. It had a spongy texture unlike the crisp fruit.

He picks something else. “So you’ve never been able to do anything strange, Rey?”

She’s eager for the next bite of food. It’s a red vegetable, a big enough piece of her to chew on for a minute, and chew she does. It’s crunchy; juicy like the meat and fruit, another dizzying flavor she wants to gorge herself on. Her stomach growls.

“No,” Rey says. She perks up at the next thing he offers and talks with her mouth full. “I’m just waiting for my parents to come back for me. Nothing special.”

“…Ah. I see.” Kylo wipes some dribbling blood from the corner of her mouth but she hardly notices, even when he sucks it from his glove. “Well, who am I to get in the way of destiny?”

She shrugs, fully invested in the plate of food. Her eyes track his hand and she arches to take a chunk of fish, then another vegetable, and two vegetables on the next pass. Kylo carries on without a word, casually eating with a fork while he feeds her.

He pushes out from the table after some time.

“Come.”

Rey hesitates, then awkwardly climbs into his lap. He turns her to face the table, one arm around her middle, and her eyes widen as she takes in the colors again. She resists the urge to grab as much as she can and stuff it in her cheeks like a squirrel.

Kylo nuzzles her temple. Her heart pounds, overstimulated by it all, and she ignores his hands on her hips. Her fingers twitch. She wants _all of it_.

“Go ahead.” His lips are at her ear. “Eat.”

Trembling, Rey snatches another pink fruit first, then leans across the table for a greenish meat that looks appetizing. There’s so much to try and she’s not sure when it will be taken away from her, so she paws for as much as she can. This is fleeting. She’ll never see this much food again for the rest of her life.

The cape slips from her shoulder and Kylo kisses the bare skin exposed. He pulls off his gloves, dropping them to the floor, and slides his hands over her naked thighs. Fingertips wander up her body, tracing bones and way he likes to, until he leans back and casts the cape aside to examine her back.

Rey doesn’t care in the least. She pushes things in her mouth and ignores him stroking the ridges of her spine down to her tailbone; ignores his sighing. She’s possessed. Can she hide any of it when she leaves? Maybe he’ll let her bring some home.

But an unpleasant tightness settles in her belly after a while, like she’s swallowed a rock. Rey slows but keeps eating, afraid it will be taken away if she doesn’t finish it all, until Kylo clicks his tongue. He tugs her back against his chest and she resists.

“But—I’m still hungry,” she blurts. Her stomach twists but she tries to ignore the foreign sense of nausea and being full. “I should eat more.”

This time a cramp doubles her over. Rey groans and clutches her swollen stomach, limp as Kylo rearranges her in his lap. Her legs dangle off the back of the chair and her head rests under his chin. She’s cold, too, but the cape settles over her shoulders and insulates her into his warm chest.

For the first time in her life, she’s eaten too much food—and she feels guilty thinking of the uneaten plates behind her. What a waste.

“You have to learn _moderation_, dear,” Kylo whispers into her hair. He wraps an arm around her middle and Rey curls into a tighter ball, shivering. “But I’m sure that’s difficult when you don’t know where your next meal is coming from.”

“Can I take some with me?” Rey mumbles.

He lifts her for a moment. “Of course you can. Back home to Unkar?”

“Mhm. I like the pink fruit.”

She whimpers into Kylo’s neck, too drowsy to resist when she feels him pressing between her legs. He guides her down his length, shifting to grasping her waist in both big hands, and Rey hears him swallow hard. Fingertips dig in.

“Those are from Spintir,” he says. He pushes, forcing her flush to his lap so she’s skewered like meat on a fork. Hands wrap around her back and he _hugs _her, huffing a pleased breath. “You can have as many as you’d like.”

She’s too nauseous to do much besides squirm in his lap, but she does like the prospect of eating as much fruit as she wants. Unkar won’t let her. Food will be a bargaining chip with him.

Rey’s eyes flutter shut. She listens to Kylo’s staggered breathing and licks the juice sticky around her mouth. She’s never felt satiated and sleepy like this. It’s obscene, like it’s obscene sitting in his lap letting him gently fuck her. Gluttonous. Greedy.

She doesn’t hate it. It’s odd having the means to leave food growing cold on the table and have sex a couple feet away in the middle of the day. No ships to search for scrap, no boiling afternoon sun to avoid: just a painfully full stomach and gentle, lazy sex.

Kylo sighs, just as drowsy as she is. Her face is buried in the crook of his neck and she keeps her eyes closed while he has his way with her. It doesn’t hurt so much now. The pressure feels lovely.

“You’re a very special girl, Rey—even if you aren’t aware of it.” His voice is low and soft; reverent. “I am.”

“…Okay.”

He _almost _laughs. “Tired?”

She nods. Exhausted. She shouldn’t be because she hasn’t been up for long, but she’s full and sleepy.

“Mm. You’ve had a long morning.” Kylo rests his cheek on the side of her head. “I’ll give you a bath and you can rest. The device should be ready by the end of the day, and we can continue on.”

“When can I go?” she asks, muffled.

He pauses for a long minute.

“Soon, my sweet sand flea. Soon.”

Rey squirms in his lap when he murmurs encouragement, and she bites his shoulder as she climaxes. Her glazed eyes watch the wall while Kylo holds her hips and pounds into her to his own completion, huffing and cursing, long fingers digging into the sensitive skin of her bottom.

It crosses her mind that he hasn’t given her another pill to prevent pregnancy. Her head lolls as he carries her to the bathroom. She _did _say she’s never menstruated. That must mean she can’t get pregnant at all. It makes sense for her weight and malnutrition.

“I shoul’ take a pill,” she slurs.

Kylo shuts the door. “Why? Are you in pain?”

“No. Baby pill.”

He sets her on the counter and she leans back against the mirror. She yawns, rubbing her swollen stomach and eyeing the white essence of the Supreme Leader smeared on her thighs. It makes her heart skip a beat.

Kylo is stripping off his black clothes. He waves and the water runs in the shower.

“I don’t think you need to take that pill,” he says.

“But—I can’t have a…”

He’s quite suddenly between her knees, hands fanned on her thighs. Rey shrinks as Kylo leans forward to rest his forehead against hers, trapping her in his dark eyes. Her legs quiver and she stares.

“You’re a very special girl, Rey,” he murmurs. His thumbs slip inward, drawing through the sticky cum on her inner thigh. His voice dips to a gentle whisper. “And you look so lovely with a round belly.”

She shakes her head, eyes widening. No. No.

“I have to go back to Jakku.”

“To wait for your parents?”

“Yes.” Rey pushes on his chest. “I have to go back, S—Master. I might miss them.”

Kylo grabs her wrists. He yanks, bringing her to the edge of the counter, and presses her palms to his bare chest again. He leans in and kisses the corner of her mouth when she twists away.

“Is that what you want?” he taunts, lips at her ear. “To go back to that barren wasteland sucking Unkar Plutt’s cock for portion scraps, waiting for parents who never loved you to begin with?”

“You’re wrong! You’re _wrong_!”

“I’m not wrong. I know an abandoned garbage-picker when I see one.”

She grits her teeth. “Shut up!” Her legs kick but she can’t get her soles on his hips to push him away. “Shut up—shut _up_!”

“You’re so greedy, aren’t you? You’ll take whatever you can get until it makes you sick.”

Rey kicks her legs, ears ringing, and screams.

Something shoves Kylo into the wall, hard enough to take his breath for a minute. She jerks back in horror, no longer drowsy and full but terrified and nauseous, ready to throw up so she can run away.

Rey covers her mouth and he smiles at her. It’s slight but there; smug and amused like watching a kitten tackle a moth. She shakes her head and crawls back, mumbling an apology even though it’s too late.

Kylo pulls off his arm guards as he ambles back to the counter. He doesn’t _seem _angry and coos and shushes Rey when she pushes as hard as she can against the mirror behind her. He’s angry. She can feel it around him like a black, twisting cloud. He’s angry.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes. Her voice hitches and she cries. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

He waves a hand and the water stops running. It’s foggy in the bathroom, air thick with moisture that makes it hard for Rey to breathe. She keeps crying as Kylo cups her cheek and he carries on hushing her. He’s going to kill her. She’s served her purpose.

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” Both hands gently cup her face and his dark eyes search hers. She can barely see through her tears. “You’re a very special girl, Rey. Do you see now?”

“Please let me go,” she sobs, shaking her head. She grasps his wrists and droops, shuddering, still shaking her head. “I don’t want to be s-special—I want to go home. I want to go home.”

Kylo kisses the top of her head. His fingers extend, creeping toward the back like spider legs, and the drowsiness suffocates her sobbing.

“I didn’t want to be special, either,” he soothes. “And no matter how much I begged and pleaded, no one would let me go home to my parents.” His hands slide down her sides, gathering her closer. “But sometimes you find home in other people.”

Her hands slip from his wrists and drape to her sides as darkness creeps in. He’s lifting her, and she worries he’s going to drown her in the pool of warm water. She can’t swim. She can’t fight him off, either.

Kylo pets her hair as she dozes off with panicked, shallow breaths. He’s going to drown her.

“You’re in good company, my little sand flea. I’ll fill you with all the things you need.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there needs to be more of kylo making rey afraid of her force sensitivity js

“Well—Well, Supreme Leader, Force sensitivity isn’t something that can be… turned off. We simply don’t h-have that kind of technology.”

“I’m aware, Doctor Rikot: hence why you are my lead _research _scientist. You _research _these things and find solutions, and when you don’t find solutions, I replace you with the next suitable staff.”

“…But… But, Supreme Leader, it simply can’t be done.”

A tense conversation wakes Rey in the big bed. She winces as she turns to her side and finds Kylo isn’t beside her; mixed relief and fear.

What if he leaves her alone in the dark, cold bedroom forever? What if she dies here alone?

“Don’t tell me what can’t be done, Doctor,” Kylo says coldly. “If you don’t deliver results this time tomorrow, you will be replaced.”

Something moves outside the room, scraping and rustling. Rey blinks, recoiling when the door opens and spills bright light inside her cave.

Kylo looms there. He’s dressed down and she can see his pale face half in shadow, contoured in a way that illuminates all his crooked edges and irritation. His hand slips from the door knob as he steps into the bedroom. He doesn’t look away from Rey, shushing when she hides under the sheets.

“Forgive me,” he calls. The door shuts with an ominous click. “Staff meetings—so irritating.”

Her heart pounds as he pads across the room to the bed. He didn’t kill her? She thought he would drown her after she accidentally attacked him.

Rey tightens into a ball. The sheets move and the bed shifts and she shudders when she feels Kylo’s long fingers creep across her bare hip. She’s naked. He’s wearing some clothes but she’s very much nude.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he murmurs. The tip of his nose brushes her jaw. “But duty calls.”

Sticky wet smeared inside her thighs draws a prickle up Rey’s spine. She trembles as Kylo leans his weight across her back in a familiar way, like he’s done it before; like it’s as simple as breathing. Why are her thighs damp? Why is she naked?

Drowsy confusion turns to fear. Has he been having… was he doing things to her while she was asleep?

“Please,” she chokes.

“I know, I know.” Kylo nudges her thighs apart with his knee, sighing softly. “We were having a lovely time and Doctor Rikot interrupted us.” He reaches down, stroking his cock where she’s already wet, and Rey heaves into her pillow, terrified. “Me and my special little sand flea.”

She arches and fists the sheets as Kylo eases inside her with one gentle thrust. Special. She doesn’t want to be special.

He curls around her body like a warm, suffocating blanket, kissing her hair, whispering. Rey’s head spins. Has he been having sex with her while she was asleep? Why would he do that?

“You look…” Kylo shivers, gathering her hair back from her cheek. “You look so beautiful when you’re asleep. So _nervous_—mumbling and trembling.” He kisses her jaw. “I couldn’t resist. I didn’t want to wake you, but I couldn’t resist.”

“When can I go?” she rasps. She knows the answer but feels better asking.

But Kylo doesn’t respond. He shushes her and kisses her hair, breaths warm and soft on her shoulder, and Rey knows she isn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. She’ll never see Jakku again.

It isn’t entirely awful, though. The Supreme Leader has taken a liking to her and that’s still better than having to endure Unkar Plutt. But it feels like Kylo might crush her; like he wants more than she’s capable of giving, and it’s terrifying.

He hugs her to his chest when he comes, groaning into the crook of her neck. Rey whimpers from a rough thrust but otherwise keeps her complaints to herself until he finishes, buried inside her, somehow tightening his already bone-crushing embrace. His spend oozes down her thighs.

Kylo growls, heaving a relieved breath. “All mine. Mine, mine.” He kisses along Rey’s jaw up to her ear and settles his hips closer, trying to push his softening cock deeper inside her. “My little pet. Won’t you look beautiful with a round belly, pet?”

Frightened, Rey simply nods in agreement.

They lapse into silence for some time. Rey stares into the darkness while Kylo’s kisses lazily trail whatever skin he can reach, hips rolling, smearing his cum inside her thighs. Eerie quiet falls. She considers that he may suddenly rip out her throat.

“Are you hungry?” he murmurs.

“I… I don’t think so. Master.”

He sighs. His cock is hard enough that he’s resuming fucking her again, absentminded, like he’s thinking about something else.

“I think I’d like to feed you again.” Kylo kisses her shoulder, then squeezes. “Fill your hungry little belly.”

A sharp ring interrupts his musing. Kylo ignores it in favor of guiding Rey to her back underneath him. She buries her face in his neck as he pushes inside her again, pleasant stretch from his cock _almost _like a full stomach. He kisses her hair and groans as he sets an eager pace, shifting his hips, worming closer.

Maybe this is what she has to endure for the rest of her life. She closes her eyes, fingers digging into his broad back. _Endure_. It’s not like he’s torturing her, but she doesn’t want to be here and she doesn’t want any part of this: not the food, or the Force, or the babies.

The Supreme Leader will tire of her sooner or later—Rey knows it. Her days are numbered.

Another sharp ring pierces the quiet bedroom. Kylo slows to a stop, puffing an irritated growl on her throat, and withdraws in the next moment. Rey curls into a ball and watches him get out of bed.

He slips into pants and a shirt before he leaves the bedroom. The door hangs open behind him.

“_Yes_?” he snaps.

“Supreme Leader, the amorphous… _blob_ is demanding the return of his wife. He’s dismantling Han Solo’s ship in the meantime.”

The voice comes from a comlink or video feed, not a person present in the room. Still, Rey hunkers down at the sound, worried someone might see her lying in Kylo’s bed like a whore.

“Unkar?” Kylo clarifies, practically snarling. His voice cools. “Very well. Send him up and secure the ship in the brig, Hux.”

“…We could always just dispose of the brute, Supreme Leader.”

“Send him to me in half an hour.” Kylo touches the edge of the door but still leans out while he speaks. “And don’t call me until then.”

The feed cuts off, beeping twice.

Lights flicker on overhead. Rey squeaks and buries under the sheets but they’re tugged back, and Kylo cups her cheek in a big palm. He crouches beside the bed, dark eyes bright and excited, and she stares.

“We’re expecting company,” he says. He searches her face for a moment before leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Come. You’ll need a quick shower.”

“Is it… is it Unkar?”

“Yes. Don’t you want to look nice for him?”

Rey nods. Maybe that will get her back into his good graces.

Kylo helps her from the bed and through his living quarters to the bathroom. He leaves her be to shower and use the toilet, and Rey scrubs as much of him off her body as she can. He’s handing her over to Unkar. As expected, he’s already bored.

But that’s okay. Now she can forget this and go back to waiting. This is a good thing—she’s even ready for what she’ll have to suffer from her new husband.

Rey finds nothing except a folded black cape waiting for her when she’s through washing. She hesitantly drapes it around her shoulders before stepping out of the steamy bathroom in search of Kylo. Will Unkar bring something for her to wear?

She doesn’t have to wonder long.

Both men sit at the table where Rey ate breakfast the day before: Kylo dressed in black, sans cape, and Unkar in his usual dirty rags. They’re across from each other, Unkar with his arms folded and Kylo draped in his chair, resting his temple on his fingers.

But something feels off. There’s odd tension in the room besides the obvious, and Rey notices Unkar is very red in the face. She stares. He’s _trembling_.

“We’ve been talking while you were showering, little one.”

Kylo smiles slightly when Rey glances at him. He raises his eyebrows and motions for her to approach.

Hesitant, Rey pulls the cape tighter around her front, but shuffles to the Supreme Leader. He extends his arm and she casts a glance at Unkar, unsure if she should obey or stay where she is. What’s he doing? Isn’t he releasing her back to him?

“Come.” Kylo snaps his fingers. “Sit with me while we chat.”

Unkar doesn’t speak or move as Kylo draws Rey to his lap. His face turns redder, almost purple, and she _feels _it again: the pulse of tension. Strange things are at work here. The Force—which she wants nothing to do with. It’s already gotten her into trouble.

Silence ensues. Rey avoids Unkar’s eyes, instead picking at the inside of the cape. This isn’t going to end well. She isn’t just going to leave.

Kylo rests an arm on the table, patting Rey’s thigh with the other. “As I was saying: Unkar and I have been discussing what would be best for you going forward. He’s agreed that you would be better cared for here—with your rare talents.”

Rare… talents?

“Maybe—”

“And he’s been kind enough to divulge who dropped you off on Jakku.”

Her heart skips a beat. Rey turns and meets Kylo’s dark eyes, hardly believing what she’s hearing. He knows who her parents are? His hand moves a bit on the table, wrist twisting, and she senses the Force twisting with it. Unkar coughs.

“You… you know who they are?” she whispers.

He nods. She can’t look away—she’s mesmerized by him, and afraid he’ll disappear if she _does _look away, even for a second. Kylo knows who her parents are.

“I do.” His gaze flickers to her lips. “But I don’t think you’re ready to know yet.”

“Please?” she blurts, begging already. “Please, Master—you have to tell me.”

Kylo hums and kisses her forehead. From across the table, Unkar splutters, but Rey barely notices. She has to know who her parents are. Right now, or she thinks she’s going to suffocate.

“Do I?” Kylo muses. His pale fingers arch, ripping a gasp from Unkar. “Will you be angry if I don’t?”

“…Yes.”

She mumbles it, afraid to commit to being angry at the Supreme Leader. But her anger turns and melts into the way the Force is twisting, wrenching Unkar in place, and it guides Rey’s gaze to his puffy, purple face. Her blood bubbles.

He knew? He’s known this entire time and never offered to tell her; not even as a wedding gift. He saw them drop her off on Jakku and leave, and never told her, but admitted it to Kylo Ren in an instant.

Rey clenches her jaw. He _knew_.

Her own anger bleeds into the way Kylo curves his fingers, redirecting the Force and bending it to his will. It’s easy. Quick. Like a moth to a hot flame, she circles his beam of light.

“He knew,” she mutters.

“He did.” Kylo nuzzles her temple, whispering. “And he never bothered to tell you.”

He never bothered to tell her. _He never bothered to tell her._ The bubble flashes to a boil—and Rey feels a sharp snap echo through the Force.

Unkar’s eyes roll and he tumbles from his chair, lifeless. In a split second Rey knows what she’s done and she jerks back into Kylo’s embrace, horrified, covering her mouth with both hands and screaming.

The Force rebounds, snapping like a rubber band and there’s an aching cold emptiness left behind. A life has been extinguished, and the cold reek of death is on her hands.

“No!” she shrieks, shaking her head. She heaves a sob but the tears don’t come. “I didn’t mean—! I didn’t mean to do that!”

Kylo pulls her into a suffocating embrace so she can’t struggle away from him. It’s comforting to be crushed, and she lapses into frightened whimpers and half-sobs instead of screams. No, no, no. That was a mistake! She would never…

“Shh…” He arranges the cape over her head so she’s smothered in dark warmth. “It’s okay, little one. It’s okay. No one is going to miss him—no one will ever know.” His lips brush her ear. “You and your gifts will always be safe with me.”

“I didn’t m-mean to! It was an accident—I was angry, and then… and then…”

His coils tighten. Her ears ring.

“I know,” Kylo whispers, “I know how easily these things happen. But now you see—surely now you understand how dangerous you are. One slight slip and you might end up accidentally hurting someone, and I _know _you don’t want to do that.”

Rey shudders, nauseous. She’s going to vomit. She can feel the Force moving around her and worries she may tap into it again and hurt someone.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she sobs. The tears come, flowing down her cheeks. “I don’t want to hurt _anyone_, not even Un-Unkar!”

“Of course you don’t. You’re my sweet little scavenger girl, not a coldblooded killer.” Kylo pauses. Lowers his voice. “What if you hurt your parents?”

All excitement about learning who they are has vanished, taken over with revulsion and grief from committing murder, but that thought somehow makes Rey feel worse. She screams into Kylo’s chest where it’s lost in his scratchy black shirt—what if she hurts her parents?

What if she already hurt her parents? What if they got rid of her because she could touch the Force and killed before? Has she killed before?

She screams until her voice is hoarse and her eyes are swollen from tears. Her appetite gone, heart pounding, she doesn’t resist Kylo carrying her back to the cold dark cave. Maybe she’s better off there. A monster should _live _like a monster.

“My sweet little sand flea.”

He settles her under the covers, still bundled in his cape, teeth chattering. Rey gives a soft, plaintive sob as he draws the blanket over her.

“I didn’t mean to,” she repeats for the hundredth time. “I didn’t m-mean to.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Kylo agrees for the hundredth time. He crouches at the side of the bed, cupping her cheek, wiping the tears with broad passes of his thumb. “But you’ve never given much thought to the insects you happen to crush underfoot, have you?”

“He’s—He’s a person.”

Dark eyes meet hers in the thin beams of light. His expression doesn’t change.

“In a way, I suppose.” Kylo kisses her forehead before he stands, already shedding his shirt. “But some are more human than others.”

Rey comes when she’s called to the middle of the bed. He’s naked, hard against her thigh as he gently rolls her over on her back. She’s sick and frightened and her thighs tremble when she parts them for Kylo, but she doesn’t begin to refuse him.

He tells her she’ll feel better when she comes, but she doesn’t after two climaxes, so she clings tighter to his broad shoulders. He’s warm and solid and immovable. Even if Rey feels like she’s drowning, she can cling to him and weather out the storm.

But it seems like she can’t. She’s going to drown in her guilt and fear, and no one can save her.

“I’m not afraid of you, Rey.”

They lie tangled together in the sheets and cape after Kylo climaxes, sweaty and sticky. Rey stares into the darkness while he trails lazy kisses along her throat.

She rubs her thighs together. “I’m afraid of you.”

His mouth wanders higher, big body following as he eases his weight between her legs again. Her eyes meet his in the moment before he pushes inside her, slow and tortuous, twisting the knife. It feels good even though she’s so horribly guilty that it’s eating her alive. She can lose track of time and space and everything else in here.

Kylo rests his forehead to hers, hooded, satiated gaze searching her face. There’s nowhere to hide. He can see it all—and she can’t get away.

“You should be,” he murmurs. He cups her jaw and offers a rare, crooked smile. “And I _should _be afraid of you too, little one.”

Rey wracks her head for the rest of the night, even after the Supreme Leader falls asleep beside her, but she still has no idea why.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a two shot and here we are

The Supreme Leader wakes Rey in the morning with breakfast and a shower. He carries her from room to room like she might shatter if her feet touch the floor, calloused as they are from the years on Jakku. But he has a mission today, Rey can tell, so she stays quiet and does what he asks.

He brings her to the bathroom first, setting her on the counter while he starts the water and strips off his clothes. His body is riddled with scars and burns but Rey doesn’t dare let her gaze linger on them.

“You and I are going to visit an old friend today,” Kylo says. He opens a drawer and finds a brush, which he draws gently through Rey’s hair. “Just to ask a few questions.”

“Okay. Will it be safe?” She wrings her hands. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I think I can keep you in check.”

Hair brushed, Rey tiptoes into the shower with Kylo close behind. He directs her under the water and sets to washing her hair without asking, but she doesn’t mind the attention. It’s nice to be touched after so many years craving the slightest brush of another person’s fingertips.

And he’s the _Supreme Leader_. He’s fascinated by her for whatever reason; it would be stupid to reject him, especially with her newfound powers. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He can help.

Really, she should be grateful that he chose her at all, even if it’s hard to feel that way right now. 

Kylo scrubs her hair to his satisfaction. Fingers roam down her body, tracing the scars she has from her own battles in life, then he begins washing the rest of her. Rey stares at the wall ahead of her and hopes he doesn’t bend her over or push her down to her knees. She’s still sore from their last encounter.

But it’s an uneventful shower, and after Kylo cleans himself Rey is ushered out. He dries them both and per usual, Kylo drapes his cape over her shoulders. The weight makes her droop.

“Force sensitives have become rather rare in the galaxy,” he says. Long fingers draw her hair over her shoulder as Kylo walks around to her front, still very much naked. “Imagine my surprise in finding one hidden away on Jakku, ready to marry Unkar _Plutt._”

Rey keeps her eyes anywhere but on the Supreme Leader. She shouldn’t stare. It’s rude.

“I had no choice,” she mutters. “I was starving.”

“I know, little one. I know.” He cups her cheek, dark eyes searching her face, and Rey wilts. “The Force works in mysterious ways. Why don’t you go sit and wait for breakfast while I get dressed, hm?”

He kisses her forehead before freeing her from the humid bathroom. She stumbles into the living area, cold and shivering without proper clothes on, and takes a seat at the table. Kylo watches her for a moment, pale face inscrutable.

He leaves the door open while he dresses. Rey stares straight ahead at the main door, pretending she can’t feel his eyes on her the entire time. It’s easier if she pretends to be transfixed on things other than him.

A pleasant chime heralds breakfast, a welcome reprieve from being the object of Kylo’s attention. He strides from the bathroom to the door in his full black attire, down to the gloves and boots, and Rey is strangely relieved by it. Seeing all his pale, scarred skin is… unsettling. Unnatural. Gods aren’t meant to be seen in the flesh.

The attendant who wheels in breakfast is rightfully terrified. He rolls the cart to the table and the dishes rattle as he places each one carefully on top, blue eyes wide and watching for Kylo. The door hisses shut and it makes the poor man jump.

Rey tries to stand. “Here, let me help.”

A wave of pressure knocks her off balance and right back in the chair. She blinks in surprise until she sees Kylo watching from near the door. He’s hidden in his own cape, expression blank but clearly communicating that she isn’t to help the man.

So she waits, wringing her hands in the recesses of her cloak. It’s rude to just _watch _someone do all the work.

But the food smells delicious and distracts Rey from her frustration. She lifts a few lids to inspect the dishes and beams at the assorted colors and scents, all foreign, all tempting. She’d like to taste all the food in the galaxy, if it’s possible—and maybe it is.

Kylo crosses the room to inspect the attendant’s work as he collects the cloches, and the man stiffens, trying not to look over his shoulder. His pale skin turns paler, almost translucent and shiny from fear.

“Thank you,” Rey offers.

“You’re welcome, Miss. Ma’am.” Blue eyes flicker to where Kylo looms two feet behind him. “Enjoy.”

The attendant wheels out his cart through the door and leaves them in tense silence.

Rey remains still as Kylo circles the table to where she’s sitting. He motions for her to stand and when she does, takes her seat and guides her into his lap. He draws the chair closer to the table and begins making them a plate. An arm loops around her middle to hold her in place while the Force corkscrews gently around the food.

“I don’t like when they linger,” Kylo murmurs. He kisses the side of Rey’s head, fingertip tracing one of her ribs. “One of the insects we sometimes happen to crush underfoot.”

She has no idea what he means by ‘insects.’ Rey has never considered herself to be better than anyone, no matter who they are or what they’ve done, so the concept of it misses her entirely.

The Supreme Leader manually dices the food, from green slabs of meat to pink vegetables with long, colorful teal stems. Rey waits, hunched from the pressure of his chest against her back, watching the way he cuts through thick sinew and fibers. At least he didn’t hurt the poor man.

It’s like Kylo enjoys the terror his mere presence inspires almost as much as inflicting pain and suffering. And he _does _enjoy it.

Rey eats whatever he offers her on the fork, bite by bite of new foods that make her tongue tingle. Some things she doesn’t like as much but she forces them down anyway, unwilling to waste a single bite and see it thrown in the trash.

Kylo gently rubs her belly the entire time. It’s not meant to be comforting but is another greedy touch; a scratch of his rough leather gloves waiting for the way her stomach swells when full. It’s obvious that he likes that, too—too much for Rey’s liking.

The comlink beeps softly with a message, interrupting their quiet breakfast. Kylo sighs and waves a hand.

“_Yes_, General Hux?” he snaps.

“Supreme Leader, Mustafar is in our sights. We will be arriving shortly.”

The voice is disembodied, seeming to come from the walls in a way a comlink might. Rey eyes the ceiling for cameras.

“Good.” Kylo beckons once with his index finger and a pink fruit emerges from the plates. It floats directly to Rey and she takes it with a quiet ‘thank you.’ “Make sure he’s conscious before we depart the ship. Rey can’t remain on Mustafar long.”

“Yes sir.”

Another soft beep and a click. The call must be over.

Kylo kisses her cheek as he stands, settling Rey to her feet. “We’re here, little one. Finish up so I can dress you—Mustafar is a difficult place to be.”

She hurriedly eats the sweet fruit when Kylo strides to the bedroom. Sticky juice runs down her fingers and smears across her mouth and Rey licks up as much as she can, desperate not to be a mess.

He returns with a white dress draped over his arms. The material must be expensive, what with how it seems fluid when he moves it, not at all cumbersome like the thick fabric of Rey’s old robes. She wipes her hands with a napkin until Kylo takes over.

His thick fingers hold her wrist. “It’s best if you don’t speak to my friend. He’s a very confused old man and I worry he’ll upset you.”

Rey nods, watching Kylo delicately clean each finger. He sends her to the bathroom to wash her hands and face, and when she returns, he’s holding up the dress. The way he stares at it is unsettling.

She stands still while he helps her into the garment, which hangs a few inches off the floor. The sleeves drape down to her wrists and the turtleneck collar ensures she’s completely covered from the neck down. It’s comforting.

“Remember, pet,” Kylo says as the fabric settles, “I want you to stay quiet.”

“Okay. I will.”

He adjusts the dress to his liking, tugging here or there so the soft material sways a certain way, before he guides a hood over Rey’s head. His gloved hands fall away as he stares at her for a long, uncomfortable minute, dark eyes vacant. It’s like he’s looking straight through her at something else.

Kylo blinks as his helmet zips across the room to him. He catches it without a glance and continues to stare at Rey as he puts it on, until she’s looking back at nothing but cold black and chrome.

“This should be an illuminating conversation,” he says.

The door hisses open. Kylo turns, beckoning for Rey to follow, and she steps into a pair of white boots before she does. They’re tighter than what she’s used to but solid, perfect for walking on durasteel floors.

She emerges from the Supreme Leader’s quarters for the first time in days. Officers passing in the hall stop what they’re doing to salute him but it seems to go largely ignored as Kylo walks past. He’s very intent on seeing this ‘friend.’

Rey follows close behind through the palatial ship, past more officers and Stormtroopers, keenly aware of the way they stare at her. Why wouldn’t they? It must have gotten around half the galaxy by now that she’d been taken by the Supreme Leader, and most had to assume he killed her by now.

But she’s still alive. Like in all things, Rey has managed to survive impossible odds.

They head to a hangar where a smaller ship is waiting: a TIE of some kind, likely unique to the Supreme Leader himself. He offers a hand to help Rey inside but she ignores it and climbs in herself. Kylo joins her a moment later and then they’re lifting off from the hangar, flying out into space toward a red planet.

—•—

Upon arrival, Rey senses something is wrong.

It’s a difficult thing to explain but she _feels _it, right down to her bones—something is wrong with this place. Pain echoes across the eerie featureless landscape like an open wound. She shouldn’t be here.

Kylo is not as perturbed. He helps her disembark from the TIE to a small landing pad, and before them looms an enormous, spear-shaped black building. Stormtroopers dressed in red guard the entrance and nod to Kylo as he guides Rey inside.

She shivers. “What is this place, master?”

“Mustafar. This was my grandfather’s castle, where he would conduct experiments to reach… the other side.”

Right—Kylo is the grandson of Darth Vader, the Sith who Rey grew up hearing terrifying stories about. She looks around the dark, cold castle, hurrying after the ghost of Vader as if she’s in a nightmare. It’s so cold. Even on a planet covered in magma, this place is _cold_.

Their steps echo off obsidian walls and floors. Kylo leads Rey to a staircase that descends down into further darkness, and the temperature steadily increases. It’s impossible to see and hard to think, like a thick blanket is draped over her mind.

This is an evil place.

A narrow hall opens into another lined with cells. She hears rattling and a groan and is pulled into one of them by Kylo.

“Good morning, Uncle.”

Rey’s eyes adjust to the pressing darkness and make out the shape of a man lying on his side. His gray beard is long and unkempt, blue eyes gazing past Kylo to the door. There’s very little else in the cell, save for a toilet and small cot wedged in the corner.

The man’s misty eyes wander to her and he stares. Rey tries to shuffle behind Kylo but he takes her arm and guides her into full view.

“I’ve brought someone to meet you,” he says. “Doesn’t she bear a striking resemblance to a certain princess of Alderaan?”

No answer. The prisoner turns his head away.

Kylo tightens his grip on Rey’s upper arm. It relaxes with a shuddering exhale and he releases her, only to touch the small of her back instead. Somehow, that’s even more threatening.

“She was discovered on Jakku amidst the wreckage of old Imperial warships: an orphaned Force-sensitive girl on the brink of starvation picking clean the remnants of the Empire’s last stand. Poetic, don’t you think, Luke?” Kylo tilts his head. “Mystical, even.”

“I’ve no idea who she is, Ben,” rasps the prisoner. He shakes his head at the wall. “Nice to see you kept your mother’s effects.”

Kylo’s hand slips away to his side as he takes two steps to the strange man. He steps on his side and rolls him to his back with a sharp shove of his boot. Oddly, the man doesn’t resist. Luke.

Rey’s eyes widen. Luke _Skywalker_? He’s supposed to be dead—he’s not supposed to exist at all. Like Darth Vader and the Supreme Leader himself, Luke Skywalker is the stuff of legend and nothing more.

Kylo steps on Luke’s stomach, leaning on his knee. His black cape shrouds much of them from Rey’s view.

“It isn’t about _who _she is,” Kylo corrects, “but _what _she is. We both know the mysteries of the Force tend to incubate in deserts: so what could be the cosmic purpose of this…” He looks over his shoulder at Rey. “Little creature?”

Luke coughs. “I don’t know. I couldn’t answer every question you had at the Academy and—”

“_You _were incubated in a miserable desert,” Kylo interrupts, snapping his head around to look at Luke again. The Force seems to shudder. “Pathetic as you turned out to be.” He leans closer. “And so was my grandfather: a miraculous birth that created the greatest dynasty the galaxy has ever seen. So I’ll ask again: what could be the cosmic purpose of this girl?”

Silence ensues. Kylo remains bent over his prisoner like a beast waiting to tear out his prey’s throat.

Nausea turns in Rey’s stomach. She glances back, unsettled by the evil on Mustafar, eager to leave. It makes her skin crawl and burn.

Luke takes a soft breath. “You want to hear that she’s something transcendental—that she’s some supernatural gift from the Force—” He laughs, deep sounds that descend into coughs. “Like it justifies all the sins you’ve committed.”

“Why else would I find a highly Force-sensitive woman scrounging in the desert?” Kylo hisses.

“The galaxy is full of them, kid. Hiding in plain sight.” Luke heaves a sigh, relegated. “This isn’t divine providence. This isn’t the Force rewarding you—it’s the same entropy that created Anakin Skywalker in the first place. Put the poor thing back where you found her.”

Kylo seizes Luke by the collar of his shirt. He drags him off the floor and shoves him into the wall, betraying his fury even with his helmet on. Rey watches from near the door and peers into the dark recesses of the hallway again.

“The Force has chosen _me_ to usher in a new era.” He pushes harder but Luke doesn’t react. “_Me_—and sent this girl as a means to that end. Deny it all you like, Uncle. I only wished for you to see her and suffer the realization that you’ve always been wrong about me.”

In the next moment Luke is dropped to the floor. Rey takes a step toward them to help but jerks back when Kylo turns, fluttering his cape. He’s angry. She can feel the turbulence of the Force around him, like water through a stream breaking around rocks.

Kylo Ren is no vessel of the Force like Rey is. It doesn’t move him, but is moved _by _him in an unnatural manner. But still, the Force obeys.

He scoops her into his arms bridal style and carries her through the door. Rey looks over his shoulder at the limp form of Luke Skywalker as the door slams shut behind them. He must be miserable here. She can hardly stand the thick evil presence.

The thud of Kylo’s boots echoes down the hallway. He walks fast, purposeful, then stops.

Rey takes a sharp breath as Kylo shifts her in his arms. He pushes her against the cold wall in the next moment and her legs spread around his hips. He moves quick and rough like he’s irritated and she can’t see anything beyond the glint of the chrome details on his mask.

“What are you—” She swallows, shaking her head. “Please don’t. Not here.”

Fabric rustles. His hips press closer and she chokes when she feels warm skin between her legs, but it isn’t like she can stop him.

Her skin burns in more ways than once as Kylo pushes inside her. It’s oppressive here, frightening and foreign, worse from the sound of his heavy breaths. Rey clings to his broad shoulders and whimpers. She isn’t ready at all and it _hurts_, and she knows he can sense her pain through the Force.

But he doesn’t care. He likes it.

“You’re going to give me everything I want, Rey.” He nudges her head with the side of his cold helmet, affectionate. “Aren’t you?”

“P-Please—Master—”

“Yes, you are,” Kylo breathes, entirely to himself. He grabs her jaw and tugs, forcing her to look at him. Nothing is looking back. “My little pet. You and I are going to accomplish great things together.”

Head spinning, Rey can only close her eyes while the Supreme Leader has his way with her. _Great things. _He sounds utterly delusional.

And the Force plays at her fingertips but she’s too frightened to reach out for it. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone—even him. She just wants to go home; to be free of this mad god and his machinations and dynasties. Rey wants no part of it.

Kylo squeezes her thighs, holding them to keep her against the wall while he pounds into her. At least she finally knows how it feels to be full.


End file.
